


Daylight

by Angleterre97



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angleterre97/pseuds/Angleterre97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one thing a Foreign Exchange student shouldn't do? Fall in love of course.<br/>(Inspired by the Maroon 5 song of the same name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daylight

Francis' POV.

I should have known better. I know this now, but really, I can regret nothing. Someone like me, with a record a mile long, all the tricks in the book and not a care in the world should most defiantly have known better. But that doesn't matter now. I've still fallen in love.

My parents had thought that it would do wonders for me, being an exchange student. Meet new people, learn new things. I think they just wanted me out of their hair for a little while. I can hardly blame them, with my small group of friends we could be real terrors sometimes. Whatever, I had agreed. When else was I ever going to get the chance to see the states? I had planned to go, tear it up, break a few hearts, and come back a more cultured young man.

This though. All of this was not part of that plan. At all.

He was the last kind of person I had expected to meet in America. Maybe because he wasn't American at all. Alfred (The son belonging to my host family) had introduced me to one of his closest friends.

"You're gonna get along great with him, he's from somewhere over your way."

And by somewhere he apparently meant the U.K...and we did not get along at all.

"You mean to tell me that you're going to have some bloody frog living with you for nine months?"

"And a happy Bonjour to you too, rosbif."

He wouldn't even acknowledge me at first. His name is Arthur Kirkland, Alfred explained. Him and his family had moved to the U.S. four years before when a job offer had come up for his mother that she simply could not pass up. And it seems he's been bitter about it ever since.

"He's a stiff and sometimes an ass, but once you get to know him he's a cool dude."

I hadn't believed that, not one bit. As the first months of school began and took shape all we did was argue. He always thinks he so righteous and...well, right! All the time. It was sickening. I had known people in school like that back in Paris, but nothing like this little British gem.

Gem? What? That can't be right. Just look at him! His hair is scruffy and unruly, he swears like a sailor, and those eyebrows! But then there were the eyes themselves, and damn me for finding myself just staring at them as he rants and rambles about supernatural this and British superiority that.

Was I falling for this monstrosity? No! So I took to what I do best. I'm handsome, charming, French. I have no problem wooing anyone, and Americans are so easily impressed by accents and foreign words. Date after date and all that was on my mind were a pair of sparking forest-green emeralds and the venomous words that laced around them.

What is happening to me? Nothing, of course. Just trying to make the best of things. It wouldn't do for me to absolutely hate my host brother's best friend, would it? So that's why I began to get closer to the Brit. Or attempt to, anyways. I've never met anyone who could push my buttons like him.

One day, oh how I remember it like it was just yesterday, one day something snapped. Arthur was over but Alfred was still at some sport practice.

"How can you say that about my cooking? You've never even tasted it!"

"I don't need to taste it, mon cher, you're a Brit, it's a given."

"That's hardly any basis to go off of." He had said with a huff, and his face was just so adorable and his lips were just so...

And before I could consult with my senses I was upon him. I crashed my moth onto his and when I realized it I quickly pulled back. He had ended up pressed against the arm rest of the sofa, me hovering just slightly above him. My expression must have seemed comical because he let a small chuckle escape, his face flushed.

"So..." He had began, just a slight waver in his voice. "What's your opinion on British flavor now?"

Naturally, I was taken off guard. Also naturally, I recovered quickly, pulling him to me and continuing where I had left off. I recall that later I woke to the sound of laughter, Alfred's laughter. He had walked in late from practice to find us sprawled out on the sofa, Arthur sleeping soundly on my chest, my arms wrapped around him.

"It's about time you two hooked up, geez!"

/OOO/

But thats all a memory, a fond one, but a memory nonetheless. The present is much more bittersweet.

You know the expression 'Time flies when you're having fun'? I've never known it to be so true. How could nine whole months pass by so fast? I had kissed him for the first time back in November...there's no way that it could be the middle of June now!

After that day, when Arthur would come over to stay the night at Alfred's (Which he did quite often, apparently his brothers weren't the kindest souls) and we would all sleep in the loft above the garage the Brit would always start in one spot, but end up back in my hold. It made things so much easier that Alfred supported us (Even as Arthur denied there was anything between us). And some nights, like tonight, he would invite me over to his house. His mother worked nights and his brothers were more often than not out causing mischief, leaving the Brit to himself.

"Come over." He would say through the phone, and with my host parent's permission off I would go. Tonight though, would be the last of that.

"Tomorrow huh?" He had asked when I told him. I nodded slowly. "My flight is at 10." I could see him biting the inside of his cheek in thought and contemplation. We both knew that this day would come and that there would be no stopping it. I didn't want to think about it, and neither did he. I just took him into my arms like every other time. Times like this when it was just him and me and he let his walls down and returned hugs ans kisses, it made me feel like I was living a dream. It might as well be a dream, cause a person always wakes up, back to real life. I don't want this to be just a dream.

Passionate and tender and commanding and soft. Nights like this, they almost brought me to tears. And Arthur would chastise me for being such a 'Sappy git' and I would smile because it's little quips like that I find so endearing about him.

And as I lay here now, hours away from this bubble of imaginary bliss popping, hours away from my return to France, there is no way of denying my hopeless, dizzying fall into love.

I watch as he breaths, his chest rising up and down. My bags are all packed.

His forever bed-hair illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the window. My plane ticket is in my jeans pocket.

His face so calm and peaceful. I want it all to stop. I don't want this to me my last look. Sure there is email and social media, hand written letters (His personal favorite) and skype. But nothing could come close to this. Holding and touching, the smell of his hair.

Wow, I've fallen hard haven't I?

He's been a sleep for a while now. About an our ago he rolled over, reached his hand up to caress my face, his green eyes sleepy.

"Go to sleep frog. You've got a long day tomorrow." Please Arthur, don't remind me! I just smile and kiss at his palm.

"I will rosbif." But really I wont. I don't want to miss this, miss him. This is it. I can see the horizon through the window, color starting to spread. It wont be long now. I wish we hadn't hated each other as much at the beginning. There's never enough time for the heart, is there?

And as the sun begins to rise I quietly slip from the sheets and re-don my clothes. I know that he'll be mad at me for not waking him this time around. Am I a coward for knowing that it would just be to hard? I know he has pen and paper in his room, and I've given myself enough time to write something heart-felt, not just some sloppy good-bye note. I bet it will make him cry. He doesn't let on, but he is such an emotional young man. It tears me up inside, but these things need to be said. I won't be there to hold him. That also tears me up.

When I get back Alfred will have his car all loaded up with my stuff. I don't think I have ever hated that Mustang more than in this moment.

I leave the note on the night stand. I must have fallen hard, cause my heart feels like its being ripped apart. Arthur will most likely yell at me the fist time we skype after this. I can hear it now.

'How dare you just leave me with out a word you stupid arse!'

I'm so sorry mon amour. I really hope that in time you can understand. Should I love or hate my parents for sending me here? I'm not sure, but I will never forget it.

We'll work this out from separate time zones. Someday we will make this work, we're both to head strong not too.

I lean in and kiss his forehead softly, so as not to wake him. And it's all I can do not to just crawl back under the covers and never come back out. But I can't. I know this. And as the first rays of morning creep through the clouds I take my 'One last glance' at my obnoxious, righteous, sarcastic, emotional, proud British beloved.

And if this is truly, truly, my last real glance then sleep tight and stay well Arthur...Je t'aime.


End file.
